


It's Not My Eyes That See You

by gurajiorasu



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-22
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2018-02-26 14:57:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2656196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gurajiorasu/pseuds/gurajiorasu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As bizarre as taking a blind man to do some sightseeing, it’s still not the thing that bugged Matsumoto’s mind the most. The fact that he was - in some sense - fooling Sakurai when he was supposed to give some apologies bothered him more than anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Not My Eyes That See You

It was started with an innocent mistake.

“I want to go sightseeing,” the man in the hospital gown had said, sensing that someone had just entered his room.

The man who just entered the room stopped, “Pardon me?”

The patient smirked with a hint of bitterness, “Sightseeing, Nurse. A blind person is not prohibited from sightseeing, right?”

The man by the door, Matsumoto Jun, understood that there was a misunderstanding happened. He shuffled on his feet, mulling over what to do. In the end, he put down the bouquet of violet that he was holding next to the bed and reached the handle of the wheelchair.

“Very well, Sakurai san, let’s go sightseeing.”

*******

As bizarre as taking a blind man to do some sightseeing, it’s still not the thing that bugged Matsumoto’s mind the most. The fact that he was - in some sense - _fooling_ Sakurai when he was supposed to give some apologies bothered him more than anything.

“What’s the color of the sky?” Sakurai looked up to the sky.

“Eum.. purplish red? The sun is setting, Sakurai san. It’s beautiful,” Matsumoto tried to put the scenery into words.

“Hmm,” Sakurai hummed contently, his fingers traced the lines of his camera on his lap. Gingerly, he lifted the heavy camera and pressed the shutter button. He captured nothing but the hospital’s roof but Matsumoto didn’t have the heart to tell him.

They stayed quiet until it was dark and chilly.

“I think it’s best to get you back to your room, Sakurai san,” Matsumoto turned the wheelchair around.

“Yeah,” Sakurai gave his agreement. His fingers were still fiddling with his camera when he suddenly asked, “What should I call you?”

Matsumoto felt a cold feeling crept to his spine, “Hah?”

Sakurai chuckled, “What should I call you? It’s just weird to keep calling you ‘nurse’ while you’re so nice to me. You know, with taking me out every day and all.”

Matsumoto took some seconds to think. He could just give his name, confess everything, apologize, and end all of this silly stunt, but Sakurai probably - _most_ probably - would be angry as hell and tell him to fuck off.  
And now, when the sightseeing activity had become comfortable and nice, he didn’t feel like ending this. So he spelled out any random name that happened to cross his mind, “Bon.”

Sho snorted a laugh, “If you’re Bon, then I’m Chu. Come on, you don’t sound like a Bon at all.”

Matsumoto couldn’t help but laugh along. Sakurai’s laugh was so infectious.  
“Then, what do I sound like?”

“You sound like someone with serious name but super cute nickname,” Sakurai pondered for quite a bit, “Super cute like Ma chan or something.”

Matsumoto giggled some more. They arrived to Sakurai’s room and Matsumoto helped him to get back to his bed.  
“Ma chan, then.”

“Eh? You won’t tell me your name?” Sakurai mocked a frown.

“Ma chan is my name from now on,” Matsumoto tucked the blanket neatly. He winced when he saw a book on Sakurai’s bedside table.  
Guilt was the most agonizing feeling ever.  
“Sakurai san, I’m-”

“Sho. Call me Sho, _Ma chan_.”

Matsumoto felt something else than guilt swarmed in his being.  
“Sho san-”

“Chan and it would be even steven,” Sho teasingly added. It seemed like he just wanted to feel at ease and familiar. There were not many people that he could talk to in the hospital anyway.

Heat. Matsumoto felt heat up his cheeks.  
“Sho.. _chan_ , I’m done for today, press the bell if you need anything,” Matsumoto had perfected the line like a pro. He bowed slightly and turned to get out.

“I’ve pressed that thing a million times but you never came,” Sakurai said.

“It’s because-” I’m not a nurse “-my shift is over after our sightseeing sessions, Sa- uh.. Sho chan.”

Sakurai raised his eyebrow for a moment, “Oh, I see. By the way, when should I take my next medicine?”

Matsumoto was baffled. He didn’t know how to answer that, so he just gave a wild shot, “Later after dinner.”

“Oh, okay. Well then, see you tomorrow, Ma chan,” Sakurai smiled and Matsumoto felt the guilt took over again.

“See you,” Matsumoto walked out.

He didn’t hear the shutter sound that came from Sakurai’s camera.

*******

“It’s raining so we can’t go outside, hm?” Sakurai liked to start conversation as soon as Matsumoto stepped inside his room.

“Yeah,” Matsumoto joined Sakurai to look out the window. Sakurai’s camera snapped some unfocused photographs of the rain.  
“It’s raining cats and dogs today so we can’t.”

“Even when the air is so nice,” Sakurai sounded so disappointed. But his smile came back in a second, “Then, Ma chan, would you read me a book today?”

Matsumoto glanced to the book that had been there since day one. Untouched, but was kept there nonetheless. He took the book and smoothed the cover with the palm of his hand.  
Photography of the Year Award, it said.

Sakurai smiled as if he knew Matsumoto already got the book in his hands. He stretched his arms and started to move slowly back to his bed, “There’s not much to read there, but I haven’t got the chance to read it.”

Matsumoto took a seat and started to open the page one by one.

“This award is dedicated to appreciate the beauty of-”

“Cut that crap, go straight to the winners, Ma chan,” Sakurai said excitedly.

Matsumoto couldn’t help but smile since this man in front of him looked just like a five-years-old getting his bedtime stories.  
“Kato Shigeyaki, Sunset in Bahamas.”

“Oh, I know him! How’s the picture?”

“The water is calm, the sky is yellowish red, and the sun is huge. There’s no one in this picture. Just the beach and the sun,” Matsumoto slightly thought that there was no difference between this and sightseeing.

“Ah. Yellowish red?” Sakurai didn’t look so pleased, “Not the kind that I like. Next one?”

Matsumoto smiled at how expressive Sakurai was. He flipped the page, “Next one is.. uhm.. Ohno Satoshi, Freestyle.”

“Ah, Ohno senpai,” Sakurai spelled the name with a notion of fondness, “What’s his picture this time? Absurd statues?”

“African. A close up of an African.”

“Hm.. typical of his. Exotic,” Sakurai nodded several times, “Tell me about the others, Ma chan.”

Matsumoto nodded too and did as he was told. There were a bunch of photos there, from the seemingly ordinary ones to the hard to describe ones.

Sakurai would comment on the photo or the photographer every once in a while. As the pages started to run out, he talked less and thought more. It was like he was troubled by something, like his focus was split into two. Just before the last page, finally he spoke up his mind, “ _Matsumoto_.”

Matsumoto inaudibly gasped. His mind raced and his heart skipped a beat, wondering if finally he was found out.

“Matsumoto Jun. Have you ever seen a man by that name coming by, Ma chan?” there’s a shade in Sakurai’s eyes that wasn’t there earlier.

“I- uh- N-No, I don’t think so,” it felt terrible to lie but Matsumoto couldn’t bring himself to tell the truth.

“Ah, I see,” Sakurai’s voice wavered to a whisper. Then, like he was worrying about an old acquaintance, he added, “I wonder if he’s okay.”

From a hundred different curses that Matsumoto expected to hear, that was certainly not listed.

“I’m sorry?”

“He’s the one who hit me with a truck. He’s still young, you see. Just before I lost my consciousness and- and well.. my vision as well, I saw him panicking as if hell was opening beneath us,” Sakurai chuckled but his chuckle was bitter, “I couldn’t forget his panicked face. It was the last thing I see, anyway. But.. yeah, I can’t shake the feeling that he might feel terribly guilty about this.”

Matsumoto froze. He couldn’t fathom the way Sakurai was thinking, “But- he should feel that way, shouldn’t he? H- he- he hit you, after all.”

“He’s a little bit reckless, yes,” Sakurai smiled, “But he didn’t intend to hit me, I’m sure. Accident happens, so..,” he shrugged slightly.  
“And Aiba sensei said that there’s still chance for my eyes to function again, anyway. So I’m okay. It’s just.. the violet that comes every morning even before I get up- I think it’s probably from him. I just think that it might be nice if he just come and talk to me rather than _quietly_ dropping flowers every day.”

Probably it would be better if Matsumoto had fixed Sakurai’s mistake back then. Probably, if he had apologized and not pretended to be a nurse that he wasn’t, everything would be easier. But it’s too late for that now. If Sakurai was unexpectedly forgiving for the accident, he might not as forgiving for all the time that Matsumoto spent fooling him.

Matsumoto flipped the page in an attempt to escape from the excruciating topic. But, the last page of the book showed him something that sent him to the deepest hole of guilt and resentment.

Sakurai noticed that Matsumoto had reached the last page. He grinned. “Nice, isn’t it?”

Matsumoto looked at the page and he felt like there were a thousand invisible blades slicing his heart.

Sakurai Sho, Intermezzo in Tokyo. Best Photo of the Year.

Sakurai reached for the camera by his bedside. With pride painted on his face, he said, “This baby produces nice photos. But now, I think it’s time for it to take some rest, ne? Once I could see again, I’ll take this baby to capture a lot of award winning photos again.”

Sakurai said it without much burden and it made Matsumoto felt even guiltier. Matsumoto had taken away a photographer’s eyes - an award winning photographer, no less - it’s the worst everyone could ever imagine. A bitter taste crept up his throat and he decided that he wouldn’t be able to survive another minute in there.

“Sho chan,” there were thorns preventing Matsumoto from talking clearly. He closed the book and put it down on the table, “I need to go for now. Please take a good rest. If anything happens, please press the button.”

Matsumoto bowed slightly out of habit and dashed to the door. It felt terrible. He felt like a demon.

“Ma chan,” Sakurai called, but he sounded unsure. Like he noticed something but he was not sure about it.

“Yeah?” Matsumoto stopped right in front of the door.

Sakurai looked like he was considering something for a minute, then he said, “No, nothing. I will see you tomorrow, right?”

Matsumoto didn’t answer right away. The word _‘see’_ that Sakurai used reminded him of his fault. Probably it would be wiser to just leave and never come back.

“I want to see a nice sunset, Ma chan. Lend me your eyes tomorrow too, okay?” Sakurai insisted.

Hearing it being said like that, Matsumoto couldn’t refuse. It’s his fault that Sakurai couldn’t use his own eyes, anyway. If he was to atone his sin, probably this was the only way.

“Yes, of course.”

Sakurai smiled in relieve while Matsumoto didn’t understand why there were tears hanging on his eyes. Probably being treated so nicely while he was supposed to be cursed and yelled at was the reason.

Another shutter sound and Matsumoto still didn’t notice it.

*******

“Ma chan,” Sakurai called out of the blue one day. They were walking down the side path around the hospital, enjoying the humid air after the rain. It was the second week they spent together.

“Yes?” Matsumoto tilted his head towards Sakurai. His hand was holding Sakurai’s arm since Sakurai insisted that he didn’t need wheelchair. The ones that were under treatment were his eyes, not his feet, he said.

“I will be able to see again, right?” Sakurai was smiling, but his tone was full of desperation.

Matsumoto’s heart was stabbed. To be honest, he didn’t know about it. The last time he spoke to the doctor, the doctor just shook his head several times and exhaled tentatively. The chance of Sakurai’s eyes to be healed was getting smaller each day.

“I can see lights and silhouettes until several days ago. Now, it’s all just dark with several white spots,” Sakurai lifted his hand in front of his eyes, “Nothing. I see almost nothing now. This is not a bad sign, isn’t it?”

“I-,” Matsumoto felt fear more than anything. A million of what-ifs haunted him. What if Sakurai lost his ability to see forever? What if it’s incurable? What if he will never be able to do his job as photographer again?

Sakurai turned his head towards Matsumoto with concerned look in his eyes, “Ma chan?”

Matsumoto still couldn’t find any word to utter.

Sakurai reached to hold Matsumoto’s hand. He stroke it several times in a soothing manner, “Hey, you’re trembling. Are you okay?”

Matsumoto shook his head, couldn’t believe how Sakurai still could worry about someone else when his life was in the verge of being messed up entirely. And Matsumoto was the reason why.

“I’m.. okay. We- we’ll try our best to cure your eyes, Sakurai san. Really,” Matsumoto said, making a mental note to go to the doctor again. He didn’t care how much he should pay, he just couldn’t ruin this man’s life.

“Sho chan,” Sakurai revised. He then smiled, “I know you will. I know.”  
“Ne, Ma chan, when I could see again, let me take a proper photo of you, okay?”

Matsumoto went pale. He didn’t think he would have the guts to see Sakurai again after his eyes were healed. No matter how close they were right now, everything would change the moment Sakurai knew who Matsumoto really was.

“Then I’ll take some photos of the purplish red sunset that we see every day. Well, that you see every day, technically. But you’ve made me see them too because _you’re my eyes_ nowadays, so-,” then Sakurai turned slightly pink, “What the hell am I talking about, eh? I’m sorry I get excited every time I think about the day that I will see again.”

Matsumoto clutched Sakurai’s hand tighter. Matsumoto was supposed to support Sakurai, but now it’s the other way around.

“We’ll try our best,” Matsumoto said again. More to convince himself than Sakurai.

Sakurai chuckled, “Yeah, yeah, I know. I know, Ma chan. Don’t worry because I’m not.”  
Sakurai’s hand crept to find Matsumoto’s once again. This time, he lingered. He patted the hand several times then brushed it with his thumb. They looked like a sweet couple having their afternoon date, if Matsumoto’s face was a little bit brighter, that is.

They reached their favorite spot and there it was, the sunset that Sakurai loved so much.

“Is it there?” Sakurai asked expectantly.

“Yeah. The sky is purplish red, as beautiful as always,” Matsumoto answered, “Ah, there are some birds flying on top of us.”

“Really?” Sakurai got excited and lifted his camera. He pointed it to a completely wrong direction.

Matsumoto had always let him be, but today he decided to reach Sakurai’s arms and directed it to the right place. It just felt wrong to let him do the wrong thing every day.

“Thank you, Ma chan,” Sakurai said after he pressed the button several times. He put down the camera and turned to Matsumoto.  
Sakurai stretched his arm and fumbled in the air, seeking for something that Matsumoto wasn’t sure what. His hand stopped when it hit Matsumoto’s shoulder. To Matsumoto’s surprise, Sakurai reached up to cup his cheek. His blank eyes stared to Matsumoto’s as he said, “Thank you for getting over the pity stage and actually _fixing_ me up today.”

Right then, as his heart skipped several beats, Matsumoto made a silent vow to bring the light back to those pretty eyes. No matter how.

*******

Matsumoto didn’t come to Sakurai’s room one day. He talked to the doctor and the doctor said that since Sakurai couldn’t see anything but white spots now, it’s almost impossible to fix the damage. Sakurai needed eye donor, there’s no other way.

So Matsumoto zipped up his jacket and ran from one hospital to another and from one organization to another in that snowy day. He desperately searched for it, ready to throw anything in an attempt to get it. But it’s not that easy. It’s not every day that someone’s generous enough to donor their eyes.

Matsumoto came home with empty hands but he had left his contact information to every single place that he visited. He was just a mere freeter but he promised he would pay no matter what the figure was. He could earn that amount of money again in the future, but Sakurai’s eyes were Sakurai’s life.

The very next day, he came to the hospital to find Sakurai wasn’t in his room. The violet that he had sent earlier that morning was on the floor, scattered. He almost jumped when someone approached him from behind.

“He refused to eat since yesterday. He asked for you again and again,” it was a nurse - a real nurse - who was always there when Matsumoto paid a visit, “After getting mad at the flowers, he insisted to go outside by himself. Maybe you should talk to him, Matsumoto san.”

Matsumoto got panicked. A blind man walking around by himself didn’t sound like good news. He ran and ran, trying to find the figure he got to know very well since the day of the accident. Then, he found him.

Sho was sitting on their usual bench. All by himself.

“Sho chan,” Matsumoto carefully called out.

“Ma chan,” Sakurai replied. His face was different than any other day. There was no smile there, only bitter expression.

Matsumoto sat next to him and pondered of what to say.

Sakurai beat him, “It’s not fixable. I can’t see any more unless there’s someone kind enough to give me their eyes.”  
His fingers caressed his camera. It was broken. Probably Sakurai had thrown it to the floor earlier.  
“A photographer that is blind. What a sick joke.”

“Don’t say it like that, we can find-”

“Don’t try to make me feel better because I won’t,” Sakurai warned, “I know when my life is over, Ma chan. I know it and this is it. The end of my life. I’m just a piece of useless garbage now.”

“No, you’re not-”

“Yes, I am!” Sakurai snapped. Then, suddenly he became all angry, yelling and shouting to Matsumoto, “I was at the top of my life, Ma chan! I just started to harvest the seed that I have sown since I was just a little kid! For the first time since forever finally I am acknowledged. People started to know me through my photos. People started to see me as a prominent photographer! But now what? Now I’m stuck with my useless eyes and I couldn’t even see my own hands let alone capturing beautiful photos!”

It was finally here. The anger, the disappointment, the hatred; it was all finally here.

“I struggled for ten years, Ma chan! Ten fucking years to prove that my choice to be a photographer wasn’t a waste of time! Ten fucking years and finally my parents accepted the fact that I didn’t go to law school. Ten fucking years and finally I have my own spotlight!”

Sakurai started to trash around. His face was red from all the emotions. There was a layer of tears in his empty eyes.

“I under-”

“No, you don’t understand. You don’t fucking understand anything. My life has come to an end, Ma chan! It’s the end of the line! There’s nothing more that I could do! _Nothing_!”

Then, tears started to stream down Sakurai’s cheeks. He turned away and wiped his tears furiously, probably didn’t expect that he could suddenly cry. His body was slightly shaking, indicating that he was suppressing the flood of emotion inside.

Matsumoto felt terribly guilty and he just wanted to comfort Sakurai. Carefully, instinctively, he circled his arm around Sakurai’s shoulder. Sakurai’s body became tense but he didn’t give any resistance. Matsumoto took the older man in his embrace.

After a few seconds, Sakurai’s body loosened up and so was his defense. He exhaled a shaky breath, leaned in to Matsumoto, and poured his heart out, “I don’t know what to do with myself, Ma chan. I really don’t know.”

“We’ll figure it out, we will,” Matsumoto whispered, his cheek was brushing Sakurai’s top of the head, “We’ll figure it out _together_. I promise.”

Sakurai was always so positive and composed. Every time, it was always Matsumoto that ended up feeling like he was being comforted by Sakurai. But that day, that day Sakurai was broken and crushed. He was upset, he was mad. His hope was flying out the window. He was in despair.

Sakurai gripped Matsumoto’s elbow like it was his lifeline, “Why does this happen to me? Why?”

Matsumoto couldn’t find any reason other than himself. He was the reason why Sakurai had to encounter this misshapen. He was the culprit. He was.

Matsumoto tightened his embrace, inhaling Sakurai’s soft scent and chanting _‘I’m sorry’_ inaudibly and repeatedly.

*******

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” Sakurai once again started the conversation right after Matsumoto’s first step inside his room, “I shouldn’t have snapped out at you and- and well.. cried like that.”

Matsumoto observed the bedside table. There’s no violet and the book was gone. The only thing that was placed there was a severely damaged camera.

Sakurai was still pretty much saddened and mad by the fact that his eyes were not going to be functional again.

“I’ll fix this for you, yeah?” Matsumoto took the camera, “Then we can take pictures of the sunset again.”

Sakurai snorted a cynical laugh, “What for, Ma chan? A blind man doesn’t need a camera. A blind man doesn’t need beautiful scenery. In fact, I might as well just sit here in this room for the rest of my life and it would make no difference.”

There was no heat in Sakurai’s words. But no hope either.

Matsumoto didn’t know what got into him, but he said it fiercely, “I thought you said that _I’m_ your eyes.”

Sakurai’s head turned to Matsumoto. The sentence caught him off guard.

“But if you think I’m not needed anymore, then it’s fine. I- I can go now,” Matsumoto’s heartbeat paced up. He was bluffing and he didn’t know how Sakurai would react.

Sakurai’s eyes widened for a split second then he looked down.

A minute passed and Matsumoto took his conclusion. He sighed, put down the camera, and silently bowed. He would still send violets every morning, pay for the treatments, and search for the eye donor, but if he was not welcomed anymore, then he should know his place.

To be honest, Matsumoto’s heart was incredibly cracked as he turned on his heels.

A loud thud stopped Matsumoto’s step. When he turned to see what’s behind him, he saw Sakurai was on the floor. Face down, legs up. Sakurai was tripped and fell. Out of reflect he squatted down to help the fallen man.

Surprisingly, a giggle started to fill the room. Sakurai got bruises on his body but he giggled. He giggled so loud his face became red.

Matsumoto joined in. Sakurai's laughter was always, always infectious.

“I guess this means that I still need my eyes, Ma chan.”

Matsumoto guided Sakurai back to the bed.

“Stay, okay?” Sakurai’s hand tugged Matsumoto’s close to his chest, “Be my eyes. I need _you_. I do.”

Matsumoto felt something funny in his stomach. He smiled ridiculously and nodded, “Okay.”  
He was relieved that he didn't have to walk out.

“Until I get my new eyes?” Sakurai grinned.

Matsumoto felt a jolt in his heart but he ignored it right then, “Yes. Yes. Until you get your new eyes.”

*******

Sakurai entered his third week in the hospital. He got closer and closer to Matsumoto every day, feeling like they had known each other for an eternity. Lots of therapy that he had to get through felt a lot easier when he knew that later, an hour or two before sunset, Matsumoto would walk inside his room and they would see the sunset together.

Not even his mother's rants or his father's ignorant lectures could bring him down anymore.

On the other side, Matsumoto began to stumble on his own feet. His daily routine included placing violets in Sakurai's room early in the morning, going to his part time job at the a konbini, getting back to the hospital for their sightseeing session, and going to his other part time job at the bar until wee hour in the morning.

But well, no one could say that Matsumoto was upset with that. In fact, he did it naturally and felt at ease. Like everything was worth it. Like taking care of Sakurai was his responsibility.  
His responsibility not as a man who hit Sakurai, but just as Matsumoto.

“Ma chan,” Sakurai called out.

“Hm?” Matsumoto quietly hummed. He was standing behind Sakurai who was sitting on their favorite bench. His fingers were playfully putting some violets on Sakurai’s hair.

“Come to think about it..”

“Hm? About what?” Matsumoto put the last violet to make a flower crown. He giggled silently to that.

“About my condition.”

Matsumoto frowned. He leaned down and put his chin on Sakurai’s shoulder, “What about it?”

Sakurai smiled wide and placed his hand on Matsumoto’s cheek. He liked to do it, he felt it was the only way for him to ‘see’ Matsumoto.  
“I don’t think it’s so awful anymore. Even if this situation lasts forever, I don’t think I mind it anymore.”

Out of reflex, Matsumoto turned his head to Sakurai. He almost kissed the man’s cheek and his face got terribly red. He looked away again and asked, “Why?”

Sakurai chuckled and shrugged, “I don’t know. I just.. don’t feel bad about it anymore.”

“Hmmmmm..,” Matsumoto hummed. He tried to understand the way Sakurai was thinking.

“Or maybe..,” Sakurai pondered. He smirked and lolled his head to the side teasingly, “Or maybe because _you_ are here with me?”

There was a three-second silence, letting them to savor all the heart leaps and butterflies in their stomachs. Then, they laughed it away together. Happily. Merrily.

Matsumoto thought that well, it was not so bad indeed. They were happy, every day was beautiful, Sakurai was laughing more and more, and he felt wonderful.  
Maybe they could stay like this forever. Maybe Matsumoto could bring Sakurai home and take care of him fore-

Wait. That was not what Matsumoto was supposed to think.

Matsumoto stepped back to collect himself, mentally slapping his own face over and over again.

Then, a ringtone was heard. It was Matsumoto’s cellphone.  
Matsumoto took the tiny device and stared at it. It was months since the last time he received any call.  
Not that he didn’t have any friend or something - because he had, really - but they were just not that significant to exchange calls.

“There must be a green button there somewhere,” Sakurai sniffled a laugh, “In case you don’t know how to answer the call.”

Matsumoto playfully punched Sakurai’s shoulder, “Of course I know how. Wait a minute, okay? I’ll answer this first.”

Sakurai laughed and waved his hand as a sign for Matsumoto to go on.

Matsumoto patted Sakurai’s shoulder as a sign of gratitude and dashed away. He had no idea of who the caller was.  
“Hello?”

“Hello, is this Matsumoto san? A relative of Sakurai san?” a woman greeted him.

It could only be one thing when his name and Sakurai’s were mentioned together.

Matsumoto’s body straightened up out of anticipation, “Yes. With whom am I speaking?”

“This is Ninomiya Eye Center, Matsumoto san. We want to inform you that we’ve found a match for Sakurai san.”

Matsumoto’s heart fluttered, “Really?!”

“Yes, Matsumoto san. Could you please come today?”

“Yes, yes, of course!” Matsumoto was really close to screaming. He hung up the phone and almost flew back to Sakurai.

But then, he stopped.

Eyes meant that Sakurai would be able to see again.  
Sakurai being able to see again meant that Matsumoto would be found out.  
And that- that meant that Matsumoto’s time as Ma chan had come to an end.

Matsumoto’s heart was dropped to his feet.

“Ma chan?” Sakurai seemed to sense Matsumoto’s presence again.

“U- uhn?”

“What happened?”

Matsumoto gulped. He felt his sweat was trailing down his temple and his legs were jelly.

“What happened, Ma chan?” Sakurai asked again, more worried this time, “You got a bad news?”

Hearing the question, Matsumoto slapped himself hard mentally. Why would he felt so gloomy when Sakurai finally got what he wished for? That would be rude, wouldn’t it?

Matsumoto inhaled deeply and smiled softly, “Congratulations, Sho chan. You got yourself an eye donor.”

*******

Sakurai held Matsumoto’s hand. He was smiling, but he was giddy.

“I’ll be able to see again soon,” he said, more mulling than talking. His free hand reached the repaired camera, “And I’ll be able to take pictures again too.”

“Yeah,” Matsumoto smiled but it felt not right. He brushed his thumb across Sakurai’s hand, “Yeah, you will.”

“And finally I’ll be able to see _you_ , Ma chan,” Sakurai beamed.

It really felt like a tomb being pierced right to Matsumoto’s heart. He couldn’t be there when Sakurai opened his eyes again. He didn’t want to stain their sweet memories with hatred and betrayed feelings, so he had resolved to vanish away.

But it’s not as easy as he had planned.

Now that he was in front of Sakurai, Matsumoto felt his determination wavered. Now that Sakurai’s hand was on his, Matsumoto didn’t know how to let go.  
Now that Sakurai was about to see again, Matsumoto felt the urge to be seen. To tell Sakurai that it was him.

All the pleasant sightseeing sessions, all the comfortable talks, all the shared touches.  
It was all Matsumoto Jun.

Matsumoto bit his lips to gain power. This was what they’ve been waiting for, he reminded himself.  
This was it.

“Ma chan,” Sakurai’s voice pulled Matsumoto away from his deep thought.

Matsumoto wanted to answer but he was afraid that his voice would betray him, so he just leaned closer to Sakurai as a sign that he was listening.

“Ma chan, I want to say someth-”

“Sakurai san, are you ready?” a nurse walked in right in time.

Sakurai turned his head towards the nurse, a little bit surprised, “Oh, yeah. Yeah, I am.”

The nurse smiled and tinkered with Sakurai’s bed.  
“Then, let’s go,” the nurse said while pushing Sakurai’s bed towards the operating room.

Matsumoto walked beside Sakurai’s bed. Not even once were their hands unlinked.

As the operating room came closer, Matsumoto knew this was the end of everything and he felt terribly heartbroken by it.

“Wha- what were you going to say, Sho chan?” Matsumoto knew it was not wise to ask. But he couldn’t let it go. It’s the last time that they’re going to meet, if anything was about to be said, there’s no better time.

In fact, there’s no other time at all.

Sakurai smiled. They had arrived in front of the operating room, “Later, okay? We’ll have plenty of time later to talk about it.”

Matsumoto shook his head and wanted to scream but he didn’t.

“Now, wish me luck for the surgery,” Sakurai squeezed Matsumoto’s hand, “See you later, Ma chan.”

Sakurai released Matsumoto’s hand and the nurse pushed him inside the operating room.  
Matsumoto felt like his soul was taken away as the last millimeter of Sakurai’s skin was slipping away from his hand. He felt like he could burst in tears anytime soon. He felt like fainting.

He was in love, Matsumoto realized.  
He was in love when he had absolutely _no right_ to.

The lamp was turned on and Matsumoto walked away. His heart was shattered and spilled to the floor, making a trail of deep sadness behind him.

Along with his tears.

Along with Sakurai’s words that he would never get a chance to hear.

*******

8 Months Later

*******

Matsumoto had never been able to move away from the city no matter how tempting it was. There’s something that made him stay.

The road where he hit an innocent man when he was driving a delivery truck.

The hospital that he visited countless times.

The florist with nice violets.

The sunset.

Matsumoto lived his life pretty normally after that, actually. Aside from the insane amount of part time work that he had to do to pay some loans, he was pretty much reverted back to his life before the accident.  
Before Sakurai Sho.

More often than not, Matsumoto wondered what would happen if he bumped to Sakurai again. Not with truck this time, hopefully.  
Would he remember Matsumoto’s face?  
Would he remember Ma chan’s voice?  
Had he learn the fact that Ma chan was Matsumoto?  
Would he forgive him?

The questions were remained unanswered because Matsumoto had never seen Sakurai again.

Until one day, in a nice afternoon, Matsumoto froze on his feet. It was a fairly normal afternoon, he was working as a waiter in a nearby cafe. He was about to take the order from a new customer who was seated in the balcony, facing away from him.

Then, Matsumoto realized that this customer wasn’t new at all to him. He knew this customer’s back. He knew this customer’s figure.  
It was Sakurai.

Matsumoto wanted to run away but the desire to be close to Sakurai again took over him. So he cautiously approached the man from behind.

Sakurai’s body was visibly tensed up when Matsumoto entered the balcony area, like his personal space was suddenly intruded. But then, he relaxed. His eyes never left the sky.

“How’s the sky?” Sakurai asked before Matsumoto had the chance to greet.

Matsumoto was baffled.  
 _Was the surgery failed?_  
Matsumoto felt a bitter feeling as the question popped up in his head.

“Ne, Waiter, how’s the sky?” Sakurai’s eyes were still pointed to the sky.

“Purplish red, Sir,” Matsumoto finally answered.

Sakurai smiled wide. So wide. It looked like he just got a grand prize or something.  
“Waiter san, do you know how it feels to be a blind man?”

Matsumoto felt a nostalgic feeling. It seemed that Sakurai wasn’t aware of who he really was. Just like the first time they talked in the hospital.  
But now Matsumoto had other feelings than guilt.

He felt longing feelings, happy feelings, sad feelings.  
Confusion on top of it all.

Matsumoto answered cautiously, “No.”

“It’s dark. I feel constantly lost,” Sakurai said, but there’s no regret in his tone, “But actually.. Actually it’s not that bad.”

Matsumoto tilted his head.

“I feel lucky, even,” Sakurai averted his gaze to his lap, where - finally Matsumoto noticed - the old camera was nestled along with a not-so-neat planner. A photo jutted out from the planner; a blurry photo of Matsumoto’s back. Sakurai caressed the photo with his index finger, “Because then, it’s not my eyes that see you, _Ma chan_.”

Matsumoto shivered. He trembled. He just realized how he missed being called by that name.

Sakurai turned his head to Matsumoto, staring right to the younger’s eyes this time, “It’s my heart that does.”

Matsumoto was flustered. For the first time ever, he saw Sakurai’s eyes filled with light.  
It captivated him. It mesmerized him.

Matsumoto knew he fell in love months ago. Now he knew he had not fallen out of it yet.

“If I wasn’t blind, I would see you just as Matsumoto who hit me with a truck. But because I _was_ blind, I got to see you as Ma chan. _My_ Ma chan,” Sakurai reached for Matsumoto’s hand. He brushed over it like he used to, “You left before I got the chance to say what I wanted to say. Do you still want to hear it or should I just leave you now?”

Matsumoto didn’t need even a second to breath out, “What is it?”

“I love you.”


End file.
